Author's Notes: Sorry it's taken so long for another chapter but I am working on this albeit very slowly. I was going to write a chapter about the team but decided there's stuff that happened in the interim that I wanted to address.

Our Fathers

Do you remember meeting my father? He was a large man of average looks and above average skill. His hair was darker than mine, but thick and bushy, flowing around his face like a mane. With his cheeks tattooed, he looked scarier than he actually was. He mentioned meeting you when you were made a chuunin. He told me how he attended the perfunctory ceremony, during a lull in the war, where you stood with men and women more than three times your size and age. You stood as straight as you could, as if that could mitigate the great disparity.

He wondered why you wore a mask at your age. Your father, like a few other shinobi, did wear a mask, but only during missions. Were you emulating your father? Or was it because the adults liked to pinch your cheeks? Father laughed at that explanation. He always liked to pinch both my cheeks simultaneously, along the tattooed stripes I received when I turned three.

He told me how some others there murmured they wouldn't want you on their team. Who wanted to take orders from a kid barely out of diapers? But my father defended you. He reminded them how Sandaime was chosen to be the next Hokage before he hit puberty. There were quiet snickers at the thought of the old man ever being young. He then reminded them that you would be on Minato-sensei's team.

Minato-sensei, who was in the running to be the next Hokage at the time, was barely old enough to enter the local bar. He would be chosen over any one of the three sannin, even Orochimaru. The critics became serious, even shuddered at that infamous name. No one wanted Orochimaru as the next Hokage, much less as their platoon leader. His missions were always successful, but few of his comrades ever came back in one piece. Now the thought of having a vertically and age challenged superior no longer seemed so bad.

Did you know what they thought of you? That mixture of admiration and envy even among adults, I thought only existed in our young peers. Did you care? Apparently not, father told me, as you walked proudly to receive your chuunin vest, customized for your petite size. Your father introduced him to you and you shook hands. My father patted you on the head and said how he was looking forward to great things from you. You glared at him without a word, but nodded your head in acknowledgement of his words.

"A pint sized cocky little brat" was how he described you. Of course, he added how you were a genius and how you could already do jutsu that veteran chuunin could not. He also mentioned to me, as casually as he could, that I needed to work harder. I could see the disappointment in his eyes. My grades at the Academy were average at best. He never voiced it, but I suspected he had always wanted a son, a genius son, or at least one who did not fall asleep at his desk after a mere half hour of studying.

I knew he meant well and just wanted to motivate me. Though it did little for my self esteem, I did want to reach you, and in order to do that, I knew I had to work harder. I did try my best, but it never seemed good enough. My tests always came back with red X's and question marks. My taijutsu was well below average, my ninjutsu and genjutsu barely average. It wasn't until we learned first aid that I found my calling. Learning medical jutsu in our third year at the Academy gave me confidence and a goal. The idea of fighting in the war never appealed to me, but the idea of saving lives was something I truly wanted to do. My parents were finally genuinely proud of me, instead of pretending my poor Academy grades weren't that important. I even dreamed of being on your team and saving your life, but that dream was still very far away.

Obito and I graduated the Academy five years after you left us. When we finally became genin, you had already been a chuunin for years. By that time, I knew Obito better than I knew you. Although he sat a few rows behind me, he always greeted me enthusiastically in the morning and often waited for me after class to walk me home. But he had competition - Gai also seemed to take a liking to me.

I remember one day, soon after you had left us, while I was walking home on my own, I felt someone following me. When I looked behind me, I saw Obito and Gai. They were trying to keep at least ten feet from me, but neither wanted to be behind the other. They looked like tentative rats who wanted the food in the trap, but neither wanted to take the first step.

I stopped abruptly and asked them, "Do you two live around here?"

"I, uh, not really, um, a bit further out, but I'm running an errand for my parents so I, uh, just happen to be going in your direction," Obito claimed. But I could see the flush of red from his lie.

"No, I'm just following you," Gai said honestly with his gap toothed grin. He did not seem smart enough to lie.

"Well, please don't," I said firmly and continued on my way.

A few steps later, I quickly turned my head. Gai had Obito in a headlock. Obito's face slowly turned a funny shade of blue. They stopped and stood shamefacedly when they saw me staring at them. I frowned at them and continued on my way, then stopped again to look behind me. I caught the two of them jostling for position again. It was as if we were playing a game of Green-Light-Go.

I did not have the courage to yell at them to leave me alone, so I just did my best to ignore them. I did not care for either of them, so after that I begged Kaori to walk with me, even though she lived in the opposite direction. How silly it all seems now.

I was soon rid of one of my unwanted suitors. Gai graduate a year after you did. He took what little he gleaned from you and worked hard everyday to improve, unlike Obito and I. Well, Obito tried, he really did, to a certain extent, but he became easily frustrated, unlike Gai who was optimistic that he could reach you. His positive attitude and determination never waned. I remember Gai running and jumping farther than anyone else, walking around the yard on his hands, performing all sorts of acrobatics, like a monkey hyped up on caffeine. I think he was trying to do his best at what he could do, smartly, instead of trying to be a jutsu expert like you. As the war continued, they needed more and more recruits, dipping further and further down to younger and younger students. Daikoku sensei recommended him for his enthusiasm and hard work, aspects Obito and I both lacked - me in great abundance.

It took Obito and I a few more years to graduate. It took us much longer to find our paths. I found it in medicine while Obito, inspired by Gai's example, concentrated on his taijustu when he could not activate his sharingan. The war continued with lulls in between, which I always hoped would be permanent. During the peaceful times, my father and mother stayed home with me, trying their best to encourage me and help with my training. I treasured those short periods when I had both my parents with me. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and that was certainly true. If I had had both my parents pressuring me to do well at the Academy all the time, I would have surely resented them.

But the year before I graduated the Academy, something happened. I know you don't like to talk about your father and I never mentioned this to you before... Did you know that my father was on your father's team that day?

My father and the rest of the team fell into a trap laid by the enemy. Instead of continuing the mission and warning Konoha, your father broke them out, wasting valuable time. The enemy was able to conduct a surprise attack on our main frontlines and many troops died.

But what should he have done? It was for certain that if he did not save his men, they would die. If he saved them, there was still a chance he had enough time to issue the warning. I would have taken the gamble, especially if you were the one in the trap.

But my father did not see it that way. The deaths of so many weighed heavily on him and he transferred his guilt to anger towards your father. No, not guilt, but grief. My mother was one of those lost in the surprise attack. She was among the reinforcements. Her death hit him hard even though as a shinobi, he should have been prepared for it. But I guess no one is really prepared to lose the one he or she loves.

I remember feeling nothing, as if the pain was so deep it transcended all human emotion. My father cried more than I did at the memorial service. He, a broad strong man, reduced to a helpless child. I became his support. He changed after that. Or rather, his flaws and weaknesses all surfaced, so many that I never realized.

I always felt I was weak - too sympathetic, too trusting, too sentimental. I would shed tears at the most cliché stories, whenever I saw an injured animal, whenever I heard a mournful tune. I looked up to my parents, presuming them to be strong all the time. After all, they had been fighting in the war for so long. They must have witnessed countless deaths – both enemies and comrades. But I learned then that everyone had their breaking point, and not everything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

My father was taken off missions for a while, though he had not wanted any time off. This gave him time to brood. He was the one who hounded your father, reporting him to the Hokage, telling everyone who would listen, never letting him forget how his decision killed my mother and so many others. Instead of being on his side, I was ashamed of him. From then on, our relationship was strained. He could not understand my silence, my refusal to take his side.

Our relationship deteriorated after your father's death. I could not even look at him. Nor could he face himself. He did not wish for your father's death. He just needed a scapegoat - someone to blame, someone to focus his anger and grief. When your father killed himself, my father lost his focus. I was not surprised when he died on his next mission. I think he wanted to join my mother as soon as he could.

Did you know your father was responsible for my father's life and my mother's death? Because of your father's decision, my father lived. Because of your father's decision, my mother died. But in the end they all died. All because of an impossible decision.

All this time that I've known you, you've never once mentioned your father. Were you proud of him? Were you ashamed of him? I think you should be proud of your father, proud to be his son. He did what he felt was right - from his heart. He lived and ended his life honorably. How many of us can say the same? I'm not sure I can.

I've long forgiven my father for his flaws, for being human, not the strong hero of my ideal. But I've never been able to forgive him for leaving me alone. I think he sought death, forgetting that he had a daughter who needed him. I was so young then, and so were you.

I forgave your father for my parents' deaths, but have you forgiven him? Not for the decision that nearly destroyed the village, but for taking his own life. Can you forgive him for leaving you alone?

All those years on our own, like so many others. We know what loneliness is, don't we?

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